Brilliantine
by evitamockingbird
Summary: What fascinates Mrs. Carson on the day after her wedding? Companion piece to "Chestnut and Silver."


**This one-shot was a result of some virtual winks and nudges from chelsie fan, suggesting/requesting a companion piece to **_**Chestnut and Silver**_**. Here you go!**

Elsie awoke before Charles, which afforded her the opportunity to watch him sleep. She had seen him sleeping a few times, when he was ill and she visited his room to check on him, but everything was different now. The greatest and most immediate difference was the fact that she was naked and watching him sleep from her place right beside him in bed, rather than seated in a chair by the bed or peeking around the door. They were both mostly covered by the sheet and blanket, but Elsie could feel his large hand resting on her stomach as he lay on his side facing her, and one of her legs was caught between his. In a way it all felt strange and unfamiliar, but at the same time after only one night she could barely remember what it was like _not_ to sleep by his side. She could have fallen asleep again, as comfortable as she was, but she wanted to enjoy the sight of Charles while he slept. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly and his face in repose was more beautiful even than she remembered. Elsie had to smother a laugh when she took a good look at his hair, which was in clumps and sticking straight out in various directions. She didn't think she'd ever seen his hair looking like _that_. It was lovely hair, though - some black and some white and every shade in between. It was subdued at the moment, to a degree, so his curls were not visible. Elsie liked all of his curls, but she was especially fond of the one that fell down over his forehead occasionally. What was left of the brilliantine he must have used the morning before had apparently kept most of his hair straight, though it was no longer slicked neatly down to his head. Elsie was ready to risk waking him now, so she reached out to touch his hair, something she'd never done before. It was a bit sticky between her fingers so she drew back her hand, deciding that one of the first serious discussions she would have with her new husband would be regarding the concoction he put in his hair every day. She hoped she could talk him out of using it now that they were retired. Elsie thought Charles looked very handsome and distinguished with his hair slicked down, but now that she could, she wanted to really be able to run her fingers through those delightful curls.

Charles yawned and opened his eyes. "Mmmm. Good morning, Elsie," he mumbled.

"Good morning, Charles."

"Did you sleep well, my dear?" he asked.

"I did," she replied.

Charles propped his head up on his hand and reached out to take a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Is it tangled?"

Elsie smiled. "It is," she told him. "Not quite as badly as I thought it would be, but I will hold you to your promise to brush it out."

"Of course. Why would I shirk my husbandly duty?" His lips twitched. "Where is the brush?"

"I'll get it." Elsie started to get out of bed, but before she was out from under the blanket, she turned back to Charles. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

His eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

Elsie blushed. "I'm not dressed."

"I'm well aware of that, Elsie."

"I don't want you to see me undressed."

"Why not?" he asked. "I did last night."

Elsie blushed even more. "Yes, but only by the light of a few candles. Now the sun has risen and you will see everything that you didn't last night."

"Ah, but I don't only see with my eyes, my dear," Charles murmured. "My hands saw everything my eyes missed and they tell me you are beautiful."

Elsie was struck speechless and breathless for a moment. Having no answer to such a charming speech, she turned away from her husband again and slid out from under the sheet and blanket. She hurried to the dresser, picked up her hairbrush, and climbed back in bed and under the covers, exposed for only a few seconds. Charles chuckled and took the brush from her.

"You'll have to sit up now, darling," he told her.

Elsie nodded and sat up, turning her back to him and holding the blanket up to conceal her breasts; there was nothing she could do to cover her naked back. Charles sat up as well and began to gently work the tangles out of her hair. After a minute or two, Elsie relaxed and allowed the blanket to fall down around her waist, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.

Charles brushed as slowly as he could, enjoying this opportunity to run his fingers through her hair. He didn't know why he had never thought of how Elsie might look with her hair down, but the sight of it the night before had brought an unexpected magic to a night already destined to be special. Eventually he reluctantly returned the brush to Elsie and climbed out of bed.

"I'm going to take a bath, Elsie," Charles told her, wrapping himself in his dressing gown. "Then we can go for a walk into the village if you like."

"That sounds lovely," she replied.

Charles turned back to her before he left the room. She was sitting up in bed, the sheet and blanket covering her from the waist down and her hair falling all around her shoulders. He nearly climbed back into bed with her, but he settled for giving her a single searing kiss before he left the room.

After he was gone, Elsie stayed where she was for a little while. She knew she ought to get up and get dressed, but she almost could not make sense of all the things she felt. She had been a spinster until yesterday, and was entirely inexperienced in the ways of married life, but in her lifetime she had picked up bits and pieces of knowledge that gave her at least some idea of what to expect. Nothing quite prepared her for how she would feel when she was naked in her husband's arms, however, nor did it prepare her for how she felt now. During their engagement, Charles had always been a perfect gentleman, but when he leaned down to kiss her cheek at the end of the day, she felt a certain longing for him that sent her to bed thinking and then dreaming about his broad shoulders and his deep voice and his warmth and his scent. Now that she had been his wife for almost a full day, she found that from the moment she awoke she was having similar daydreams. This morning, however, she knew what those broad shoulders looked and felt like bare and she knew how his voice sounded in her ear, and all she could think of was him - how he felt, how he smelled, how he sounded. Elsie knew, of course, that the desire a young man and a young woman had for one another was in part to encourage procreation. Somewhere in her life she had picked up the idea, or perhaps she'd just made an assumption, that after a couple had produced children, that side of a marriage all but disappeared. Passion was for the young, or so she had believed, but it appeared she was wrong. When she closed her eyes now, she remembered the heat and the craving of every moment of her first night as a wife, and she wanted more of it. It was indecent, really, but alone in bed with her husband was the one place in the world where she wasn't required to be decent.

Elsie got out of bed and slowly began dressing. She had only donned her shift and corset by the time Charles returned in his dressing gown, his hair damp and that favorite curl of hers finally making an appearance. He put on his shirt and trousers and then made his way to the mirror. He opened a drawer and pulled out the wretched brilliantine, but Elsie was quick. She plucked it smoothly from his hand and held it behind her back.

"Please don't use it, Charles," she entreated him.

"But my hair will be completely wild!" he protested.

"Let me help," she suggested, reaching for his comb. "I left my hair down for you last night. It seems only fair."

"Not exactly," Charles grumbled. "You didn't have to go out in public with your hair tangled."

Elsie ignored him. "And besides that, my dear, have you seen what you've done to the pillowcase? You must have given the laundry maids fits back at Downton."

"No, I didn't," he told her. "Not often, at least. I always washed my hair just before I went to bed."

"But you didn't wash it last night, and now there's probably just as much of this stuff on the pillow as there was on your head when you woke up."

Charles sighed. "What exactly do you suggest, Elsie?"

She set the brilliantine down on her bedside table, well out of his reach, and took up his comb. "I'll comb it down while it's still wet. It won't stay so ruthlessly slicked down, but I think you will still look perfectly respectable."

He looked down at her and smiled. "All right, let's try it," he agreed, then kissed her quickly. "With you on my arm I should look respectable even if my hair is completely unruly."

Elsie blushed, though she pretended not to have heard his compliment. "You're far too tall, Charles," she told him. "Come sit on the edge of the bed." He did as she asked and she knelt behind him on the bed to comb it out in the back. She was very efficient at first, but soon she found her fingers threaded through his hair much more often than she applied the comb.

"Elsie," Charles rumbled.

"Mmmm," she hummed.

"Are you going to comb the front?"

"Not just yet, Charles." By now she had abandoned the comb entirely, fascinated by his hair, now nearly dry, sliding over her fingers. He was right that it was naturally quite untamed, but Elsie loved it. It was another mystery about Charles that was now revealed to her. In the back of her mind she knew that he would have to wet his hair down a second time so she could attempt combing it down again, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Elsie."

"Yes, Charles," she replied. "I'll fix the front now." Elsie got down from the bed and stood facing him. Her smile grew. "This is my favorite curl." She reached out and twisted it around her finger.

"I don't think you're making things better, Elsie," he remarked in a low voice.

"Yes, my dear, I'm sorry," she told him.

"You don't look very sorry," Charles teased.

"Can you blame me?" Elsie asked him. "I've rarely seen your hair like this. Is it so terrible that I don't want you to subdue it with that vile stuff? If you go wet it down again I promise I will comb it properly." Charles didn't move or answer. Elsie got back on the bed and knelt beside him, now combing her fingers through the hair above his ear. She looked very closely again at his hair between her fingers. It almost looked as though each strand was a different color, that no two were alike. It looked so wild, but it was perfectly soft. Impulsively, she kissed the side of his head.

Suddenly, Charles hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to sit across his lap. "Enough," he growled and kissed her. Elsie relaxed into his embrace, one hand behind his neck and the other in his hair. He entwined his fingers in her hair as well.

"Can we go into the village later? Or perhaps wait until tomorrow?" Elsie asked breathlessly.

"Whatever you like, my darling," Charles answered.

"I like being your wife, Charles," Elsie whispered.

Charles chuckled. "I should be sorry if you didn't."

"I'll fix your hair later," she promised.

"And yours. I'll brush it again," he commented, dropping kisses from her ear down to her bosom. "Since we're not going into the village just yet, will we be staying home?"

"Yes, I think so. But there is one thing I must do right now." Elsie pushed away from Charles and crawled toward the head of the bed. He wondered what she was about until she picked up his pillow. "This has _got_ to go." She tossed it to the floor and Charles laughed for just a moment before he pounced on his wife. Smiling up at him, Elsie ran her fingers through his hair again.

"All right, you win," he conceded, kissing her neck. "The brilliantine goes."

"You won't be sorry, love," Elsie murmured.

"I _know_ I won't."

_The end._

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